


Self-discovery

by ElsaFH (Elsa0806)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Atsumu has a sexual crisis, Choking, Dom Hinata Shouyou, Drunk Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Miya Atsumu's first time with a man, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, light humiliation kink, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsa0806/pseuds/ElsaFH
Summary: “It’s okay,” Shouyou whispers, leaning in. The edge of his shirt hangs loose underneath the hollow between his clavicles and Atsumu can’t help but peek at the smooth skin that extends into the golden darkness under the hem. “Is this your first time?”He chokes on how offended he feels.“’Course not!”“With a man, Atsumu-san.”
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 20
Kudos: 183





	Self-discovery

**Author's Note:**

> This had been sitting on my wips for _months_ and when I opened it again yesterday, I discovered it was almost finished. Can't be helped, I guess. 
> 
> Be gentle with me. This is my second time writing smut uwu 
> 
> Enjoy!

Miya Atsumu is sure of three things about his current situation. None of them was there —or rather, he wasn’t _aware_ of none of them— before this sort of moment of enlightenment he’s experiencing at this exact second. None of them was very clear up until now, either. It feels like he’s opened his eyes for the very first time in his life.

“Mmmm,” Shouyou hums, amused. The vibration of his voice seems to travel through his bones, echoing through Atsumu’s as if he’d put his hand on a wire with direct current. It rattles through his spine, vibrates across his chest, and shakes his heart. His breath ghosts over Atsumu’s face and scatters his thoughts until every single one of them is so far from the other that he can’t grasp two at the same time. “This is a surprise, Atsumu-san.”

The first thing Atsumu is absolutely sure about his current situation is that the boner that presses against his underwear can cut through glass. With that said, it’s necessary to clarify that this is a _very confused_ boner because he had never gotten hard while getting manhandled by a man before. No, scratch that— he’d never been manhandled _before_. His sexual experience is limited to women and he hasn’t had the privilege to meet a woman that prefers to dominate rather than to be dominated. So yes, the fact that he’s not in charge here is both a surprise and an enormous turn on, if the way his boner throbs painfully is some sort of clue.

He believes, wholeheartedly, that having Shouyou sitting on his lap has everything to do with his _current situation_. Atsumu isn’t really sure if he can get it up based solely on friction and the idea that his teammate’s thighs are a beautiful sight underneath the golden light of the nightstand lamp, but here he is; with a hard-on that only compares to those he used to experiment when puberty had just arrived and he couldn’t get his hands out of his pants. What a torture it was, that thing of having a twin sleeping in the same room that was also in the same situation as him.

It wasn’t as much of torture as this, though. He’s twenty-three years old— Atsumu really believes that having a sexual identity crisis is too much to handle at his age. He was sure, until ten minutes ago, that he was straight as an arrow. But looking at… his current situation, he’s starting to doubt. Hell, he’s sure he’s not straight, he’s just not ready to admit that he likes the weight of Shouyou’s body pinning him down against the mattress.

The second thing Atsumu is sure of is that he isn’t imagining the bulge in Shouyou’s sweatpants. Whatever is happening here is completely, absolutely, _undeniably_ mutual and _that_ makes a painful throb jerk at his already sore erection. He isn’t imagining the way his mouth waters at the sight, either, because when he swallows it feels like finally getting some fresh air after being underwater for too long. His throat is painfully dry and his eyes burn because of the strain of ogling at Shouyou without blinking. He looks like a statue made out of gold and Atsumu wants nothing but to let his palms roam over his chest, over his arms, over his _thighs_ , but the hand that keeps his wrists pinned over his head doesn’t allow him to.

Atsumu swallows around the lump in his throat and congratulates himself when he’s able to breathe in a decent intake of air. His heart is pounding like crazy against the interior of his ribcage and it feels like it jumped whenever he remembers that the inside of Shouyou’s thighs is pressed against his waist and _holy fuck_ did he just have the need to buckle his hips? It doesn’t really surprise him; what surprises him is the urgency of it, the idea that death will breathe over his neck if he doesn’t do it _now_.

“Who would’ve thought, Atsumu-san,” Shouyou purrs. Atsumu’s toes twitch and his ankles dig a bit harder into the mattress. “I didn’t know you liked to be _choked_.”

The third thing Atsumu is absolutely sure —and he honestly would like to not be, thank you very much— is that he didn’t know that until now _either_. He can feel every single one of Shouyou’s fingertips pressing against each side of his neck and the slight lack of air has his head spinning and the blood rushing to his ears. His pulse beats against the pressure, throbs around his Adam’s apple.

Somehow Shouyou is hitting all the spots that send his blood to pool at his groin at the same time; spots Atsumu himself had no idea they existed. He hasn’t even gotten to terms with the fact that he’s into dudes —or probably just into Hinata Shouyou, like ninety per cent of the Japanese and Brazilian population— and he’s really not sure if it’s the right moment to get to terms with these new kinks he’s finding along the way.

“’m not—” he begins. Or _tries_. Shouyou’s fingers squeeze a bit more, cut his oxygen supply, the stream of blood to his brain, and subsequently his words. His vision blurs at the edges. 

What comes out instead of words is a strangled moan.

“Were you saying?”

The pressure fades, leaving only the sensation of his palm against his Adam’s apple, and Atsumu sucks in a deep breath. He’s lightheaded and so turned on he feels like he’s gonna die if his dick isn’t touched in the next five seconds but he doesn’t feel brave enough to ask Shouyou to do something about his pathetic state.

Shouyou’s amber eyes roam over his frame and there’s an edge of tenderness sliding underneath the hunger that shines in his irises. It’s a small duality that pushes Atsumu slightly off of balance because the monster that looms over him threatens to eat him up in one bite, but the softness glimmering to his pupils tells a completely different story.

“What do you want, Atsumu-san?”

What kind of ridiculous question is that? Atsumu frowns at Shouyou, opens his mouth to speak, and only discovers that he doesn’t really know what he wants. No, scratch that— he _knows_. He just doesn’t know how to _ask._ This is a first; Atsumu has a talent with words. Some people wouldn’t call it a talent, however, but he disagrees. Wholeheartedly.

“It’s okay,” Shouyou whispers, leaning in. The edge of his shirt hangs loose underneath the hollow between his clavicles and Atsumu can’t help but peek at the smooth skin that extends into the golden darkness under the hem. “Is this your first time?”

He chokes on how offended he feels.

“’Course not!”

“With a man, Atsumu-san.”

 _Oh_.

Atsumu doesn’t answer, but Shouyou doesn’t seem to need the confirmation to his words. A gentle smile slides over his lips, pulling at the corners of his mouth, and Atsumu has the sudden and burning need of lapping at the dimples that sink into his cheeks. His dishevelled hair and the too-big-for-him shirt tell stories of hot cocoa and fuzzy socks, whereas the heavy bulge in his pants tells a completely different tale. The gentle smile, however, seems to tie everything in a pretty knot that turns Hinata Shouyou into a double edge knife.

He’s never been into knife play but when he looks at the fire burning behind Shouyou’s eyes and compares the stories his clothes tell, he cannot help but want to be torn apart by the knife that hovers over his jugular.

“Y-Yah.”

Shouyou hums.

“What do you want me to do?”

The question is asked right after the tip of Shouyou’s tongue runs across his lower lip. It glistens with saliva and Atsumu swallows. He can’t focus on whatever he just said; his eyes are fixed on the way the golden light of the lamp bathes the skin, glimmering softly like a mirage in the middle of the desert.

He hears the other’s giggle, feels the sudden friction against his neglected member, and hisses. The giggle coming out of Shouyou’s mouth crumbles and reshapes into a gasp that bumps midway in his throat with a moan.

“I asked you a question,” he purrs. His voice sounds like melted chocolate dripping from the tip of a knife. Atsumu wants to lick it. “What do you want me to do?”

“Do… do that again.”

“Do _what_ again?”

Atsumu wants to pass out. He might be about to if the way his head spins is some sort of clue about the state of his consciousness. He blinks into the golden light and inhales through his clenched teeth, expecting the grip on his throat to tighten at any given moment. It doesn’t.

“Use your words, baby,” Shouyou sighs dreamily. The hand that pins Atsumu’s wrists against the mattress frees them and roams over his arm to travel down to his chest. His fingers dig into the muscle with a softness that pushes a mewl out of Atsumu’s mouth. “I won’t do anything until you tell me what you want. What if I do something you don’t like…? We can’t have that, now can we?”

That’s embarrassing. Atsumu wonders how he got himself into this situation, but when he remembers that he was a little bit tipsy and that he was the one to pull Shouyou in for a kiss that never came to be because he bumped against the bed and ended up in _this_ position, he tries his best not to think too much about it. Shouyou is a bit tipsy himself, and when he saw the blush on Atsumu’s cheeks when they almost kissed, it felt like destroying a dam. Atsumu didn’t know he could be _this_ dominant and he doesn’t feel brave enough to admit that he _likes_ it.

The entire situation is embarrassing, to be fair, and Atsumu wonders why he keeps holding back. What’s the worst that can happen if he decides to go all out and say exactly what he wants? By the looks of it, Shouyou is not going to judge him; the fire burning behind his irises threatens to devour him whole, yes, but it also promises the greatest pleasures known by humankind. It’s almost a taboo, almost forbidden and _oh_ , Atsumu wants to let go of all his fears and allow himself to sink into the deepest and darkest parts of Hinata Shouyou. He wants Shouyou’s lust to consume him. But for that, he needs to use his words.

Shouyou is surprisingly patient. Albeit being as painfully hard as Atsumu is he doesn’t pressure him to hurry. He waits, smiling gently, breathing steadily while Atsumu wheezes for air. He looks like an expert in this sort of situation and he wants to ask, but he also wants to get off— desperately.

“So?” Shouyou asks, calmly. The grip on Atsumu’s neck vanishes and he has to bite back the whine of frustration that licks the back of his throat. He _does not_ want Shouyou to choke him again. Absolutely not. Shouyou leans in, presses his elbows at each side of Atsumu’s head and lets his lips trace the sharp line of his jaw. The hot breath that comes out of his nose makes the setter shudder helplessly. “What’s it gonna be, Atsumu-san? Are you gonna use your words or will I have to leave you like this?”

“Do the—” he begins. His dry throat stops him mid-sentence and he swallows to lubricate. “Do the d-dry humpin’ thing again.”

Shouyou straightens his back and his smile changes from heaven to hell. It’s like seeing a butterfly coming out of its cocoon in fast forward, the metamorphosis so quick in front of his eyes that he could’ve missed it completely if he had blinked. The gentleness and tenderness of his expression vanish, replaced by a crooked grin that could send armies to hell. His eyes harden in a way that makes Atsumu swallow and tense, the muscles of his back snapping with the tension that stretches its fingers across his spine.

It feels like he’s become the prey. Shouyou doesn’t usually look like a predator, not out of the court at least, and Atsumu isn’t used to being the prey either. It’s usually _the other way around_ because, in his experience, women like to be dominated, like to become the prey. He comes to the realization, while the curl on Shouyou’s lips turns slightly tender again, that this is nothing like straight sex.

Looks like he’s in for a ride.

Shouyou’s right hand presses right beside his head, sinking into the mattress while his left rests relaxed on his chest. His eyes roam over Atsumu’s frame once more, as if he’s taking in the image of a very flustered Miya Atsumu, almost begging to get off, underneath him. Atsumu knows Shouyou could ask him to beg and he’d _do it_ because if he’s to be honest he doesn’t think he can resist one of Shouyou’s orders.

Atsumu’s arms feel numb when he finally moves them and guides his hands to rest against Shouyou’s thighs. The muscles tense under his palms and his breath hitches in his throat; does his touch affect Shouyou as much as his affect Atsumu?

There’s a second suspended between them before Atsumu _finally_ gets some attention. The friction against his neglected erection feels heavenly and it tears a moan out of his throat, and he would’ve felt ashamed had it not been for the heat that spreads from his pelvis like waves crashing against every single one of his nerve ends. His hips buckle against Shouyou’s, finding him midway, and he rejoices in the adorable little whine that falls from his lips and seems to drip over his chest.

Atsumu’s world tilts over its axis when instinct takes over and he has the _audacity_ of flipping their positions, pinning Shouyou down against the mattress. A gasp ruffles against his dampen lips, amber eyes looking at him like it’s the first time they ever see Atsumu. Shouyou’s cheeks are flushed a deep, angry red; his pupils widen with hunger until there’s nothing but a thin ring of amber surrounding the black void that threatens to swallow him whole. He looks delicious.

“You’re supposed to stay still,” Shouyou complains in a whine. Atsumu’s throat dries a little bit more; how can he sound so innocent when his boner is pressing, hot and heavy, against his own?

“Isn’t this more comfortable?” Atsumu asks, chuckling under his breath.

“Not really,” he answers, pouting. “How can I make you beg if you’re the one on top?”

The thought makes him shiver. That’s what Shouyou wants to accomplish? He wants Atsumu to _beg_? The fact that the statement doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable right away says a lot about him and he’s not quite ready to face his inner demons (aka the idea that he seems to be a hopeless bottom when it comes to sex with a guy) just yet, but at this point, he’s decided to think less and do more. He swallows, ignoring the lump pressing his throat from the inside, and lets his eyes roam over Shouyou’s frame.

He wouldn’t mind begging for a piece of the body pressed between his and the mattress. He also doesn’t think a mere shift in their positions can take away Shouyou’s ability to make him plead for what he wants; Atsumu has the feeling that he’ll end up begging one way or another.

“’m sure ya will find a way.”

Shouyou’s face lights up in the same way it does when a surprise set finds him on the court.

“Well then,” he begins, solemnly. It’s almost unbelievable to think that he’s as aroused as Atsumu is, that his heart is pumping furiously inside of his ribcage. His attitude doesn’t seem bothered by their current situation and Atsumu wishes he could relate, but the only thing he can do is to feel jealous. “Give me your best.”

Isn’t that what Atsumu always does? Give Shouyou his best?

The implications right now are so different and he’s sure he’ll have to go over them once he’s done with _this_ but for that, he first has to _get this done_ and he’s really not sure if this works in the same way it would do with a girl…?

“Just _move_ , Atsumu-san,” Shouyou urges. The honorific sounds strangled like he’s pushing it past his lips and Atsumu wonders how hard it is for him to keep his composure in this situation. Is he really as calm and collected as he looks like?

Atsumu obliges. His hips undulate forwards and the friction rips a hiss from the back of his throat while his hands turn into fists on the duvet at each side of Shouyou’s head. There’s a pleased sigh, almost like a breathy giggle, ruffling the hair around his left ear, right there where Shouyou’s mouth is pressed now that his head lulled to the front and his forehead is now hidden in the crook of the other’s neck.

The heat extending from his groin reaches out like waves through his system, tying a knot in the middle of his stomach that seems to press his insides to the side, making space for whatever it is to come. Atsumu _knows_ what is to come. He’s not dumb; he’s had sex enough times in his life to be able to anticipate how this is gonna end. He doesn’t remember this being so _overwhelming_ , however… it’s like his nerve ends are exposed and the mere draft could press buttons he didn’t even know he had.

Shouyou shivers underneath him and his legs wrap around his waist, his heels digging into the small of Atsumu’s back. He doesn’t miss a beat to set the pace and Atsumu thinks maybe he should feel a bit annoyed by it, but he discovers he doesn’t really mind if Shouyou’s still the one in charge. So he lets him and picks up the pace, follows the implicit instruction of the pain on the lower part of his back and the very explicit ones that go along the lines of “there, there, please, _please_ ” and “fuckfuckfuckAtsumumore”.

For someone who looked so calm and collected a few minutes ago, the whining, moaning disaster pinned against the mattress seems to have materialized under Atsumu’s body out of the blue. His blushed cheeks almost look feverish and the desperate glint of his eyes makes it a lot harder to keep on track and not blow his load right then and there. The nails digging in the curve of his shoulders, even over the shirt that clings to his shoulder blades because of the sweat, tell stories of a close climax that will definitely ruin their underwear and pants. Atsumu doesn’t particularly mind about any of them, especially when Shouyou decides to flip them over to return to their previous position.

“What the f— Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu pants, having problems with focusing his attention on something else that isn’t his painful boner and how damp his boxers are.

Shouyou sits on his lap, huffing softly to recover his breath. His hair is more dishevelled than it was at the beginning of this whole ordeal, his shirt is completely wrinkled, and there’s a red spot there where Atsumu bit without noticing; it marks the meeting point between his shoulder and his neck.

“I told you,” he gasps, shivering slightly when he wriggles to accommodate his weight on Atsumu’s lap and his boner gets unexpected friction against the hem of his underwear. Shouyou bites his lip and takes in a sharp inhale, pressing his hands against Atsumu’s stomach; he feels the tension of his fingers and expects nails digging on his shirt. It doesn’t happen. “I told you,” he begins again, once he’s sure he won’t be interrupted by his own body, “that I couldn’t make you beg if you were the one on top, didn’t I?”

Atsumu wasn’t really expecting to go back to their initial position. Atsumu wasn’t really expecting _anything_ because to be absolutely fair, he was too damn close to his climax to think of something besides the burning need to reach the orgasm. It was painful to stop at this point and he couldn’t say he didn’t admire Shouyou for his willpower: to be able to stop when he was so close definitely deserved a price.

Shouyou laughs breathlessly before he’s on the move again. This time, however, what Atsumu expected to become in a new form of exquisite torture, becomes a new change of position: Shouyou coaxes him to part his legs to make room for the other’s body and hums under his breath when he obeys without hesitation.

What a sub he turned out to be.

Now that he’s kneeled in between Atsumu’s legs, Shouyou looks like a god ready to bring the end of the world. The smile that pulls at the corners of his lips is almost devilish and Atsumu wonders if he’d enjoy watching the world burn as the god he is. Thing is, what’s about to burn is not the world, is _Atsumu_ and truth be told he cannot wait for it to happen.

Shouyou’s fingers tap against his thighs and it feels like he’s trying to get his attention. Atsumu blinks, crashing face-first into a reality that’s almost as beautiful as the dream, and as he uses his elbows for support to be able to look at him comfortably, Shouyou’s smile widens a little.

“May I?” he asks, solemnly. Atsumu raises his eyebrows with curiosity, asking silently. This earns him a heartfelt giggle that falls from Shouyou’s lips and drips onto his lap, and while the other leans forward to press his mouth against Atsumu’s in a quick kiss that takes his breath away, his fingers move from his thighs to the waistband of his sweatpants. “I mean this, silly.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“What, ya mean—”

A hiss cuts him off when Shouyou yanks the waistband of both his pants and his underwear down. His hardened dick springs free from the enclosure and the sudden contact with the cold air of the room rips a desperate gasp from the deepest part of his throat. The lack of pressure and forced friction against his hard-on is a gift and he wouldn’t complain if the cold air hadn’t been replaced by a hand that grips him too lightly to his taste.

“Oh, this is such a nice dick,” Shouyou marvels, backtracking over the bed, still in between Atsumu’s legs, just enough for him to face his cock as comfortably as he pleases. His fingers tighten a little around him and Atsumu swallows the needy whine that licks the back of his throat. “May I choke on it, Atsumu-san?”

The question makes his arms give out at each side of his body. _That_ is something he’s never been asked before. No girl had ever asked if she was _allowed_ to give him head; they just did it and Atsumu was glad they did. It isn’t the same with the other way around, though. After all, he usually asked if they were okay with being eaten out before things went down mostly because he liked to go all out as much as he could.

This is, at this point, a whirlpool of things he’d never experienced before. Being the submissive one and being asked to use his words to get things. Being asked for confirmation, for _permission_ to do things that otherwise were absolutely natural for him.

Hinata Shouyou aimed to kill him and he wasn’t gonna say no.

“Atsumu-san? Is everything okay?”

“Yah, yah. ‘M fine.”

“So? May I?”

Atsumu lets out a shaky sigh. Never in his twenty-three years of life had someone asked him if it was okay to choke on his cock. The perspective both turns him on and makes him feel strangely self-conscious.

“Go ahead.”

He can’t see Shouyou’s face, but the electricity that snaps through his nerves tells him he’s smiling. There’s something about him, about everything he is, that turns all his emotions into physical things the rest of the world is able to feel. It scares Atsumu to no end but it also turns him on almost as much as the idea of Hinata Shouyou’s mouth around his throbbing, painfully hard dick.

When Shouyou’s tongue laps at the leaking, swollen head of his erection, Atsumu leaves out a strangled moan. This is not his first time experiencing sex and it probably won’t be the last but for some reason, everything feels so raw, so exposed that he can’t help but melt underneath Shouyou’s attentions. It’s like his existence had somehow connected to the very marrow of his bones and when his lips surround the crown and his mouth descends slowly but surely on the extension, his tongue separating his lower teeth from the vein on the underside of his dick, Atsumu has no problems with stop thinking altogether.

His mouth is scalding hot against the over sensitive skin of his boner and is silky soft while it backtracks. Atsumu isn’t really sure about how much Shouyou is taking in, but just the tip felt like it was completely inside. He’s almost afraid to look, knowing the sight might be so erotic and dirty he might bust it the moment his eyes fix on the head bobbing up and down in between his legs.

So he lets him, writhing, moaning, and cursing under his breath with every skilful twist of his tongue. Melts a little every time Shouyou’s hand goes to cover that portion of his erection he can’t swallow, going up and down on the extension to not allow any part of his erection to be left untouched. It’s almost too much and he feels the knot in his belly tightening with every stroke, sending waves of electricity to the tip of his fingers, making his toes curl against the duvet—

Shouyou’s lips let go of the head of his erection with a dirty, wet pop that sends shivers down his spine and makes his head snap up to look at him.

“What. The. _Fuck_.”

Shouyou has the nerve to giggle. He giggles even though there’s a string of saliva sliding down the left corner of his mouth. His swollen lips shine softly under the golden light with a mix of precum and saliva and holy _shit_ he’s never looked as beautiful as he does now.

“Why…?” Atsumu begins, panting for air. Shouyou licks his lips and hums low in the back of his throat like he’s enjoying the taste of Atsumu coating his tongue. “Why d-did ya stop?”

“Told you, didn’t I?” he answers, actually wiping the string of saliva sliding down the corner of his mouth to then lick at the tip of his thumb. He looks like a kid that’s devouring a huge chunk of the most delicious chocolate in the world. “I want to make you beg.”

“Shouyou-kun, _please_.”

Shouyou laughs.

“That’s a good one,” he admits, solemnly. “But there’s a specific kind of begging I want to hear, y’know?”

“I’ve no idea of what yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

“I want you to beg me to let you cum.”

“That ain’t gonna be hard.”

“Then it’s not gonna be fun.”

Why is he pouting? Atsumu is way beyond trying to keep his pride intact; at this point, Shouyou could ask him to describe what he wants him to do to Atsumu and he’d do it gladly if that means he can get off. There’s just something about Shouyou that makes Atsumu forget about his pride and his shame, and it’s not only the fact that he trusts him with no hesitation. It’s also the fact that he also _yearns_ to hear Shouyou moaning and begging as he did a few minutes ago.

“Oh, it can be fun,” Atsumu laughs, breathlessly. He sits up, holding Shouyou’s face in between his palms. Underneath the soft glow of the lamp, he doesn’t look like the man that just gave him the best blowjob of his life. He looks way too innocent and pure. “The fact that ‘m willin’ to beg says how much I wantcha, doesn’t it?”

Shouyou blinks once, twice. Three times. And then he smiles wickedly. Atsumu smiles back before leaning in for a kiss, marvelling at Shouyou’s flavour against his tongue; he tastes like Atsumu’s precum and his own saliva and the savour makes Atsumu’s dick twitch in need.

“So you want me to make you cum?” Shouyou asks, licking at his lower lip. Atsumu shivers slightly. “Is that what you want, Atsumu-san?”

It feels so weird to have him using that honorific when he’s the one in charge. At the same time, it feels only logical; Atsumu is the senpai out of the bedroom, but Shouyou seems to have a lot more experience than him in this field… it’s almost like the perfect balance between the persons they seem to be.

“Yah,” he sighs against his lips.

“With my mouth?”

“Hell yah.”

Shouyou giggles while he lifts his hands, the pads of his fingers sliding across Atsumu’s temples before burying themselves into the mess of blond locks. He massages Atsumu’s scalp with circular motions, the action so tender and relaxing that he can’t help the dreamy sigh that goes past his dry lips.

“Atsumu-san,” Shouyou purrs. There’s a wicked smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and Atsumu wants nothing but to lick at the dimples that sink into his cheeks. “Who would’ve thought that you were _such_ a needy slut?”

The word feels like Shouyou just slapped him and something inside of Atsumu wants to refuse to get called like that. It seems to fight tooth and nail to surface and backtrack, pushing the insult as far away from him as possible.

The biggest part of himself, however, melts at the sound. A soft whine gets stuck in his throat, rumbling low in the centre of his chest while his hands find Shouyou’s thighs. His fingers tighten around the muscles, prompting a light gasp out of his lips as the massage on his scalp stops.

“Is it okay if I call you that?” he asks, tenderly pressing a kiss to the corner of Atsumu’s lips. His voice is raspy and the eyes that fix on his face are sultry and lidded, desire burning behind amber irises. “You can refuse. It’s okay.”

“It’s—” Atsumu begins, choking on the refusal. He doesn’t want to refuse, however; there is something deeply arousing in being called a slut. He just needs to get to terms with it. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Shouyou presses, gently, his right hand sliding across the edge of his face, outlining his jaw before diving down, scalding hot fingers closing around Atsumu’s throbbing erection to give it a light squeeze that pushes a hiss through his teeth. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you’re not sure, you can say no.”

“’M sure,” he manages to say. His eyes fall to the hand lightly gripping his erection, his teeth gritting. He _needs_ Shouyou to move his hand, to suck him off, to do whatever it takes for him to reach the sweet, sweet release that’s burning in his groin. It feels like there’s fire replacing the blood running through his veins. “Just…”

“Just?”

“Just make me cum, _please_ ,” he begs.

Shouyou blinks a few times, slightly surprised at the whine that makes his voice rise at the end of his sentence. Even to his own ears, his voice just sounded like that of a child’s whose favourite toy has been taken away. He should feel ashamed.

He doesn’t.

“What a good boy you are, Atsumu-san,” Shouyou sighs, his mouth finding the vein on Atsumu’s neck. His teeth graze across the skin, electrifying his whole system and pushing an almost needy moan out of his lips. “I’m gonna make you feel good. Is that what you want?”

“Y-Yes.”

His teeth bite a bit harder. A punishment.

“Yes, _what_?”

“Y-Yes _Shouyou-kun_ ,” he whimpers.

“That’s better.”

Shouyou traces a path of kisses, nips, and licks down his torso, his left hand pressing against the centre of his chest to push him back onto the mattress. Atsumu plops back, the air escaping his lungs with a soft wheeze as Shouyou’s mouth moves further down, the tip of his tongue drawing the edge of his Adonis lines.

Then, without any warning, his lips wrap around the head of his dick and he swallows him whole. He doesn’t use his hand to cover the portion of Atsumu’s boner that he can’t take into his mouth— he doesn’t use his hands _at all_. One swift motion of his head and the crown of Atsumu’s cock is touching the back of his throat, the muscles tightening around it.

A deep moan vibrates in the back of his throat, coming out constricted and sibilant. Atsumu’s left hand flies to his mouth to press his palm against his mouth, pushing himself to swallow the sounds that he’s sure will pour out of him in the most embarrassing way.

The heat of Shouyou’s mouth disappears. He clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Move your hand, Atsumu-san,” he orders, voice stern and firm. His words are charged with so much authority that it feels like he’s _physically_ coaxing Atsumu’s hand away from his face. “I want to hear you make noise. I want to know just _how loud_ Miya Atsumu can be.”

His fingers grip the duvet underneath his body, submissively following Shouyou’s order. Shouyou gives his right thigh a soft pat, almost like he’s petting an obedient dog.

“That’s a good boy,” he congratulates.

His breath hovers over the sensitive skin of Atsumu’s erection, scalding hot and damp against the pearly drop of precum glistening on the head of his cock. Shouyou laps at it, his tongue sliding smoothly across the surface, making Atsumu suck in a sharp intake of air.

Then his mouth is around him again, pushing, _pressing_ until he’s at the back of his throat and the muscles are _tightening_ and Atsumu doesn’t think he’ll last more than a few bobs of his head if he keeps that up. The interior of the cavity is so hot it feels like he’s on fire, silky soft against his throbbing cock.

Shouyou hollows his cheeks when he backtracks on his dick, the contact pushing a surprised gasp out of Atsumu’s mouth, a sound that crumbles into a deep moan when Shouyou’s mouth reach the tip, only to swallow him whole again as if he doesn’t need to breathe. Atsumu’s fingers tighten on the duvet, his hips buckling in pursue of the warmth of that mouth, but Shouyou’s hands press against the place where his groin and his thighs meet, pushing him down, keeping him in place.

“Shouyou-kun, _please_ ,” Atsumu whines.

His mouth goes down again and as soon as the head of his dick his wrapped by the muscles of his throat, Shouyou hums. The vibration sends hot, thick pleasure across Atsumu’s nerves, pushes his hips to buckle again, but he refrains. He knows that if he breaks the unspoken rule, Shouyou will start over.

He’s so turned on it is actually painful. The last thing he wants is to get edged until there’re tears in the corners of his eyes.

Shouyou goes up and down, humming in between the motions, hollowing his cheeks, tightening the grip of the muscles of his throat without any marked pattern. It’s driving Atsumu crazy as he moans and writhes under him, begging for him to just let him cum, to let him find the sweet release that has the back of his neck damp with sweat and his mouth dry as he gasps.

It only takes a slight graze of his teeth against the head of his dick for Atsumu to cum right then and there: the muscles of his belly tighten and his back arches off of the mattress, a strangled moan choking him as his release stains Shouyou’s cheek and lips following the erratic pace of his heart.

White shines behind his closed eyes for a few seconds, engulfing everything, isolating him from the rest of the world as he reaches the peak of his pleasure and starts to come down, trembling and out of breath. He rides his orgasm sloppily, almost overwhelmed by the power of it, as if navigating under a dark ocean that only tries to pull him down.

Atsumu collapses back on the bed, gasping for air. It feels like he’s been cumming for ages, like this fleeting second has actually lasted an eternity. His fingers are sore as he lets go of the duvet, his eyes fluttering open just to find Shouyou’s smiling face hovering above him.

“You taste _so good_ ,” he purrs, licking at the corner of his mouth where there’s still some of Atsumu’s release glimmering softly under the golden light of the nightstand lamp.

“Ugh,” he cringes, closing his eyes again. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Shouyou singsongs, sitting on his thighs. Atsumu’s eyes open again only to find him looking at him like he’s a giant bar of chocolate. “You also make the prettiest noises.”

“Ya have a humiliation kink or somethin’?” he whines, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Red stars dance behind his closed eyelids.

“I don’t know,” Shouyou giggles. “You tell me… _you’re_ the needy slut.”

Atsumu’s dick twitches at the word.

“Ah,” he sighs dreamily. “Seems like I get to ride you, don’t I?”

**Author's Note:**

> I truly believe that "this is such a nice dick. May I choke on it?" is the best line I've ever written and nothing will _ever_ be able to top that. Sad. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Come scream at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/eli_tan_)! 


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